Lollipops
by complicatedness
Summary: "Tsk, tsk, Weaselette. I always knew you were a filthy blood traitor, but I didn't know you had a dirty mouth too." Ginny thought having to write her Potions essay was labor enough. Things couldn't possible get worse. She was wrong.


_If you're reading this then I assume you can assume that this is mine. Not. (I don't own Harry Potter.)_

**Lollipops**

Damn.

Malfoy sits in the corner, watching me slave over this essay on whatever the hell Slughorn assigned it on, staring at me with those steely gray eyes, an endless mist boring through my very soul.

I shiver. _Since when did I become this poetic?_

Licking his damn lollipop, twirling it in his long fingers, pausing every so often to bring it to his mouth, reveal a very pink tongue, his gaze never leaving the back of my head.

Because I can _feel_ it, his gaze, and I can _hear_ him too–slurping at that lollipop like...

_Can't you eat that quietly?_

An ink blot ruins my parchment, and instead of magicking it away, I ball up the essay (not) and toss it over my shoulder, at Malfoy's feet.

His footsteps are soft, but they echo throughout the empty library. His arse finds the surface of my work table, and he makes it a point to shove my things to the floor in the process.

I scowl, telling him to go away, except with colorful vocabulary I'm sure Ron would be proud of.

"Tsk, tsk, Weaselette. I always knew you were a filthy blood traitor, but I didn't know you had a dirty mouth too."

I look up from my fresh attempt at Potions, fingering my wand, wondering how long I'd be banished from the library with one Bat Boogey Hex and one Draco Malfoy traumatized for life on my record, when I falter.

I look up at him, like for the first time, really looking, glare neglected and a retort lost at my lips.

His platinum blond mane is messy and unkempt, though sexily so, and bags lie beneath his cold gray eyes. Even in his disheveled state, he is perfect. I gulp, my eyes finding his lips, stained red (the only actual color on his pale face) from his lollipop, forgotten in his left hand.

My fingers twitch as the thought of touching his lips invades my mind.

_What? No!_

I jerk my head violently, successfully cricking my neck and managing to look like an idiot. It doesn't help that only seconds later a tinge of pink–nope, red–spreads over my cheeks. "Go away." I mumble.

_Is that really all you've got?_

I can see the classic Malfoy smirk spread across his handsome features even as I stare, unseeing, at my blank parchment.

He returns his attention to that lollipop of his, and I close my eyes.

My shoulders stiffen as his fingers brush against my own, and almost instantly new thoughts of him spring into my mind. To my dismay, they do not, no, involve Malfoy in pain, begging for mercy, as I tower over his crumpled form, but instead a pair of lips, some tongue, and that blasted lollipop.

I blink and the lollipop is no more, and instead I'm there in its place, cradled in his nice, strong arms kissing him like there's no tomorrow. Incredibly soft and edible flesh..I part my lips as his tongue roams into my mouth like a savage beast in strange territory, daring to explore, and his hands–

Holy shit.

I knock over my ink jar in surprise as I realize I'm still in the library. Next to me, I hear Malfoy guffaw, and my blush deepens, if possible.

_No, no, no!_

Without knowing what I was doing, or rather...convincing myself (ha!) that I did not just imagine mauling Draco Malfoy, _Draco_ **Malfoy**, a Malfoy, if I did not make it perfectly clear enough, a sworn enemy of the Weasley family. What? Well, I cram my books and things into my bag, images of red lips dancing in front of my eyes.

"Leaving so soon, Red?"

I push past him, my fingers paralyzed by the shock that shot through them when I touched him. I don't see him stick out his foot until I trip over it, landing flat on floor. Ow.

I growl, a mad angry desire filling me like a balloon as I scramble to my feet, lashing out and forcing him backward into a bookcase. Compelled by a sudden curiosity and urge to do something crazy, I bring my lips crashing against his. Merlin, if Ron saw me now..

The bookshelf trembles behind us, and I am suddenly glad Madam Pince is no where to be found. Alarms are going off in my head, but all I can think about is how soft his lips are.

Draco Malfoy returns my kiss with much enthusiasm. His arms snake their way around my waist, and one hand grabs for my arse, but you know, I don't know. I'm too caught up in the moment to care.

Instead I choose to focus on how good his hair feels against my fingers and furthering this kiss.

The three second fantasy of snogging my brother's best friend's nemesis (and my own, hmm...) proves accurate. Even with my experience, I can safely say that Malfoy exceeds expectations. Like seriously, Dean Thomas has nothing on this.

In momentss, lips become tongue, and I'm floating, on a cloud, somewhere, but I'm dragged back to earth as breath and thought becomes something of an obstacle for me.

With reluctance I pull away (due to: lack of oxygen, shame, confusion, anger, but, you know, mostly the oxygen thing) and slap Malfoy across the face as hard as I can.

The look on his face is priceless. His look of shock quickly molds into one of those signature smirks. He touches his smarting cheek, muttering something I can't hear. I dodge his hands, grabbing my bag, and turning back to see that blasted lollipop in his mouth again.

Damn. Damn him! And his roguish good looks.

I stalk from the library, gathering whatever dignity I could muster, having just snogged Draco Malfoy breathless, the taste of cherry dancing on my lips.

* * *

**A/N: This was really fun to write, seeing that it's my second story ever! It was really random and kinda funny, but now I can't help but feel ashamed when I read it over. Ha! I guess I really can't seem to get over the shock that I actually wrote something and _finish_****_ed_ it. I really do hope you guys like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and any constructive criticism wouldn't be too bad either.**


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